Come Back Home
by Roxburry Black
Summary: America tracks down his state of Georgia a few days after the civil war ends. Warning: contains Parental! America and parental spanking of a teenage state. Don't like don't read


**I do not own Hetalia. Contains Parental America and spaking of a State. Don't like don't read.**

America was searching. Searching for what? His state, Georgia, one of the states to join the Confederacy. Like many of the other Confederate states he had not returned to the main house when he'd been rejoined to the Union, America was here to return him.

He sighed and rubbed his abdomen, which had been slashed open when the CSA had been created. It still very much hurt, he glanced around the beautiful clearing, untouched by any of the vicious battles, golden sun-light streamed through the leaves and filtered down to the soft mossy ground. It seemed almost magical. Sitting down on an ancient tree stump he allowed the pains to slowly dissapate, a buzzing sensation in his body indicated his quarry was near. America slowly took a deep breath. And hurled toward the ground as three bullets imbeded in the stump he had just been sitting.

"Get out of here ya, damn yankee!" Georgia's voice called, "I don't need you around!" Staring at the moss and dirt America growled and shot to his feet, "Come out Georgia, you've already lost and shooting me will get you no where."

"I'll probably feel better 'bout it though," he called and America pin-pointed his voice to the tenth or twelth branch up in the pine tree, under the guise of rubbing his stomach he pulled out his pistol, leaving his rifle on the ground.

"I'll give you one more chance to come down Georgia, don't make me do something drastic!" He yelled, flipping the safety off quietly.

"I'll give you one more chance to leave asshole," shouted Georgia in reply, there was the shound of a reloading gun. Moving faster than the eye could follow America whipped out his pistol, aimed and with an almighty 'CRACK' shot the branch his son was resting on.

Swearing like the war-hardened state he was Georgia crashed towards the ground, his rifle following close behind. He lay on the ground completly dazed, his rifle landed a few feet away. Holstering the gun America walked up to Georgia and nudged his gun further away from him. Georgia groaned and then scrambled to his feet, backing away from this advancing nation.

"Get back," he shouted, putting his fists up, "I'll kick yer ass!" America shook his head.

"I keep telling you that swearing is going to get you no where with me Georgia." Georgia only spat out another curse word and shifted his fighting position. He knew he could never actually defeat his dad in a fist fight. America was simply too strong to take on in a fair fight.

"Come back with me son, don't make this more difficult than it needs to be." America reached a hand out, gesturing for his slighly shorter son to take it. Georgia narrowed his brown eyes and scowled.

"I'm never going back there! Just give up already!" He stood an unconcious step back as America took one foreward. His dad's hands were still held in a placating gesture, making him look entirly non-combatant.

"come back home Gerogia, come home with your siblings and lets be a family again," the soothing tone of voice only infuriated the former Confederate state further, as did the peaceful stance his father wore. Livid he threw the first punch, and stumbled when America meerly side-stepped.

"Are you a coward or just weak," he challenged, charging again. Once again America stepped to the side and Georiga went hurling past him. "Fight me damn you!"

"I'm done fighting my children."

"You're not my F***ing father!" He yelled, tears of frustration gathering at the corners of his eyes.

America dodged another of his attacks saying, "Of course you're my son, stop denying it."

"Damn you, you bastard," yelled the state, trembling and clenched fists at his sides, "Damn you straight to hell jackass." He stood still as America approached still muttering soothing words and making gentle gestures. As soon as he was close enough Georiga let all of his frustration and anger fly and landed a solid punch to America's cheek.

America was caught off guard, his son had punched him squarly in the face and was currently sprinting away through the woods. Snapping out of his daze he caught sight of the retreating rebel uniform and sprinted after it. Even in his weakened state he was much faster and stronger than any of his children and caught up with Georgia in only a few seconds. He didn't even need to tackle his state, he simply grabbed him by the back of his uniform and jerked him to a halt.

"Get off of me, get off, let me go!" Georgia thrashed in America's grip, suddenly very afraid of what would come about.

"You punched, are you serious right now?" America's tone had become cold and furious, "You called me a 'jackass'! What is wrong with you? I offered you three chances to come back peacefully, I was going to let you off the hook but now its a different story." He changed his grip to Georgia's wrist and pulled him back toward the clearing, the state fighting and swearing every second of the way.

Once in the clearing he stomped over to the stump and sat down, jerking Georgia over his lap at the same time. Georgia spazzed and he was held down with one hand and America removed his belt with the other, "Let me go, put me down!"

"I offered you a chance, maybe next time you'll think twice before hitting and insulting me!" America stated firmly above the loud protests of his state, doubling the belt over in his hand. There was a moment of absolute stillness as Georgia waited in anticipation and fear and America steeling himself to do his least favorite task, punishing his states.

The moment ended with a 'SMACK', swiftly followed by Georgia's wail of pain and surprise. The spell was broken and America grimly continued to spank his son. With each slap the cries got louder and and trashing got worse. Finally America was forced to stop for a moment while he readjusted him grip.

"Hold still Georgia," he ordered harshly, fixing his position, "Or I'll make this a hundred times worse."

Georgia only whimpered in reply. America had a very good arm and his rear felt like it was on fire. To add insult to injury he was turned over his dad's knee being punished with a belt. Georgia was a strong state who could handle large amounts of pain, but there are somethings you can't build an immunity to, a solid spanking is one of those things. As the punishment restarted he kicked his legs and wailed into his dad's thigh. Being spanked in full uniform, how embarassing. Each blow seemed more painful than the last until he was begging for it to stop.

"I'M SORRY FATHER! PLEASE STOP!"

"Are you going to swear like that ever again, young man?" 'SMACK'

"NO, PLEASE STOP!" Georgia cried out as he was spanked again.

"Are you ever going to hit me again?" 'SMACK'

"NOOOO," he sobbed and more quietly, "forgive me Father." America dropped the belt onto the ground and rubbed Georgia's back soothingly. Georgia didn't move, it probably didn't even register that his punishment had stopped. America gathered his crying state into his arms and let him sob into his chest. Georgia wrapped his arms around America's neck and soaked his uniform while America simply held him close and muttered gentled words into his ear. Finally the sobs quieted down and there was only the occasional hiccup. He continued to rub Georgia's back until he was surprised to hear a meek voice say, "I'm sorry Father, I'm so sorry." America gave a slight chuckle and nuzzled his son's hair.  
"Come home with me?"

"Yes, I'll come home." America stood up, still holding his state and began making his way toward the edge of the forest. His stomach didn't hurt near as much as it used to.

Rear still throbbing Georgia allowed the gentle rocking movement of America's walking to lull him into peaceful slumber. He still clung to his dad's neck, even in sleep, snoring quietly into his broad chest.

When he realized Georgia had fallen asleep America only chuckled and shifted his grip ever so slightly. The other nations probably didn't even realize the existance of his states, nor could they ever guess how much they meant to him. Tightening his grip ever so slightly he scowled briefly at the sky, he'd never let the others hurt them. He'd kill before he allowed that to happen. Smiing again he made his way home, sore and sleeping state stil cradled in his arms.


End file.
